Solomon's Crucible 6. A New Friend (Patreon)

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Solomon stumbled. The ravine floor was rough, but the loss of balance was his own fault. The problem was all in his head. His pants leg had been shredded, his boot was soaked in a combination of monster spit and his own blood, but his leg itself was perfectly fine. It was just hard for him to wrap his head around his own good health. The system's healing was really something else, as long as you didn't lose a limb.

The furball hadn't been so lucky. Once he'd had it pinned in place, the end was just a matter of time. He'd stored the thing in his inventory, just in case. If nothing else, he didn't want some other furball powering up by eating the corpse. He wasn't sure if their growth was based off of eating or fighting, but he figured it was better safe than sorry.

He focused as he took the next step, reminding himself that he didn't need to favor his leg. It was working fine. Just the memory of what had happened was enough to make him give every boulder he came across an extra bit of scrutiny.

The X on his minimap was close, now. Now that he had covered more of the ravine, it was looking more and more like the X wasn't going to force him to climb up the hill.

One more turn of the path brought a doorway into view. Solomon took one last look around for furballs before turning his attention to the door.

Calling it a doorway was underselling it. The passage was several times broader than the door to Solomon's apartment, and about twice as high. It was topped off with a soaring archway, and surrounded by decorative carvings.

Solomon approached with caution, edging up to one side of the doorway before poking his head around to take a peek inside. In keeping with the doorway, the inside looked like it had been built by somebody. From his quick look, it was a well lit, well made, largely featureless hallway.

The system had led him here, and the system seemed to want to give him a fighting chance. Solomon gripped his knife a little tighter and stepped inside.

Upon entering the hall, he could see that the light came from small fixtures embedded in the ceiling. Considering that he was heading into a tunnel under the mountain, he'd been half-expecting torches to be attached to the walls. He focused on looking out for danger and moved forward.

The hallway wound its way forward and down. With every blind turn, Solomon tensed up in anticipation of an ambush. Every time, though, the turn just revealed more hallway ahead. Finally, the hallway ended, opening up into a large lobby.

The far side of the lobby held an exit that was guarded by an enormous pair of stone doors. Built to a scale that dwarfed the tunnel entrance, the doors had been liberally decorated with spikes and carvings of skulls. The message was clear enough.

Off to the side of the lobby, a glimmer of light caught Solomon's eye. He turned and saw what looked like nothing so much as an underground convenience store. A light up sign proudly displayed a logo that he had never seen before, a set of windows gave off a welcoming glow, and the door itself wouldn't have looked out of place on a 7-Eleven.

Solomon had walked closer as he studied the store, and was caught by surprise when the door slid open on its own. The sudden touch of the mundane was almost as unsettling as all the recent fights he'd been through. Still, he wasn't in any hurry to try the other set of doors. He squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

The store was cluttered with shelves of bric a brac. Solomon ignored that for now and made his way to the sales counter. Nobody seemed to be manning it at the moment. There was a door behind the counter marked "employees only" that was cracked open. Leaning over the counter let him peek through the crack.

His limited field of view let him see the back of an armchair and a sliver of an old television. Judging by the curl of smoke rising up over the seatback, either the chair was occupied by a smoker or it was on fire.

Solomon leaned over a bit further, ready to call out and get the cashier's attention. His leg bumped against something. Looking down, he saw a bell sitting on the edge of the counter. He shrugged, straightened up, gave himself a quick brush to look presentable, then reached out with his index finger.

Ding. The gentle sound set Solomon's teeth on edge, as though he was hearing it with more than just his ears.

A muffled curse drifted out from the back room. A moment later the door was thrown open and an old man came storming through. He stopped dead when he saw Solomon.

"You made it! I knew I had a good feeling about you, kid."

Solomon was at a loss for words. The man in front of him was wearing a bathrobe and slippers. His face was mostly wrinkles, and only a few tufts of white hair stood between the old man and complete baldness. He was pointing at Solomon with a hand that was also gripping a lit cigar.

All in all, he could have been Solomon's grandfather, if not for his blue skin and red eyes.

Solomon shook his head. Blue skin, green skin, he had questions that needed answering. "You know me?"

"Well, not personally. Look," the man said, pointing to the wall behind the counter. Now that Solomon was looking closely, he could see a small plaque reading "System Store #000450791." Beneath it was a hand lettered sign reading "Don't Delay - Sale Today! Mort's Prices Can't Be Beat!"

"You're Mort?"

"Mort'anbelchorazzena, at your service," he said, before taking a puff on his cigar. "What I'm getting at is, I paid good money for an exclusive license to sell to the natives in my zone. The system tells me I only got one guy to sell to, well, I get a little nervous."

Solomon just stared at the old man. Everything he said was raising more questions. There was one thing, though that jumped out at him. "Exclusive? I have to buy from you?"

"Hey, come on, don't be like that," Mort replied. "Your Uncle Morty only makes money if you live long enough to spend it."

Solomon wasn't sure if he was supposed to find that reassuring. "So you've got my best interests at heart?"

"It's not like either of us has anybody else to talk to," Mort said, shrugging. "Face it, kid. Right now, I'm not your best friend. I'm your only friend."

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